A Fantastic Surprise
by Eligh
Summary: Jim discovers fan fiction. He is pleasantly surprised. Slash- boy smex. Don't like? eh... too bad for you. M for Kirk/Spock slash. NOW with a shiny new EPILOGUE!
1. Chapter 1

**_Title: _**_A Fantastic Surprise_

**_Summary: _**_Jim discovers fan fiction. _

**_Rating: _**_M_

**_Warnings: _**_Language, refrences to sexual acts_

**_Disclaimer: _**_I do not own these characters. No offense intended-I just like to play. _

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><p>Leonard was beaming as he walked quickly to Jim's quarters. This was brilliant, hilarious, <em>wonderfully awkward<em>, and he couldn't wait to see the look on his friend's face when he told him. Not bothering for Jim to answer his chime, Leonard strode in, catching Jim half out his chair, and thrust a PADD into the captain's confused hands.

"Look at what Ensign Davies showed me," Leonard said, almost breathless from laughter. "You're apparently quite popular, kid."

"What's this?" Jim responded, looking down at the PADD, which was displaying a (very long) list of what appeared to be links to… stories?

"Fanfiction," replied Leonard, grinning. "About you. And mostly, Commander Spock."

"Fan… what? What about Spock?"

"Apparently," Leonard drawled, enjoying this moment just _immensely_, "Your fame at being a kick-ass captain has brought all sorts of writers out of the woodwork. They write stories about fictional escapades you've been on, specifics of away missions, relationships between yourself and the crew…" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Jim's eyes widened.

"What… sort of relationships…?"

"Read some of the descriptions. They're… explicit." Leonard was unable to stop his laughter any more.

"'_Five Times Jim Noticed Spock and One Time He Acted_… Jim finds himself unable to ignore his sexy first officer, rated M, slash'…" Jim slowly read aloud. "Uh. Bones? What exactly…" Jim trailed off, his eyes wide, quickly reading through the descriptions on the extensive list—some of which were _very_ descriptive.

Leonard laughed again, and waved his hand dismissively. "Read a few, I'm sure you'll get the picture." He left Jim holding the PADD and headed back to the sickbay, holding his sides with laughter.

Jim watched him go, and then turned back to the PADD, hesitating for only a moment before clicking on one of the links. It was one of the shorter stories, though not the shortest at a couple thousand words, and the… action… started right away.

There were graphic descriptions of Spock's cock rubbing against his own, of himself blowing Spock, Spock licking his ass, him fucking Spock, Spock fucking him, and just about every sexual situation imaginable. As he read, he realized his mouth was hanging open.

God forbid Spock _ever_ saw this.

But he found he couldn't stop reading. He explored the website—he realized he could search for different pairings between different people, and there were many ratings. Not everything on the site was smut, but there was a fair amount. But after a few minutes of playing around (there was a page devoted to sex stories between himself and _Bones_, but, uh, _gross_) he found he had for some reason returned to the M-rated page that chronicled himself and Spock.

The one he was reading now talked about them accidentally eating an alien desire fruit, and as a result, fucking like bunnies. He laughed to himself. That had actually happened—the desire fruit part, not the fucking part.

Here was one that was sweet—he'd been captured by the Klingons, Spock had saved the day, and upon the brave captain's return, had confessed his feelings. Well, yea, Spock always saved him when he was captured by the Klingons, which happened with a distressing regularity. And Spock was always emotional when Jim got captured, so a successful return would make sense if feelings were going to be confessed…

Whoo, this one was violent—'A PonFarr fic,' it claimed, and the sex within it was brutal and downright intense. Spock hadn't gone through PonFarr yet, but had recently told Jim it would likely happen soon, and Jim had begun to worry about with just whom Spock would mate with…

This story was set in an alternate universe, and he and Spock had apparently met before the Academy, and played a huge part in one another's lives—that only made sense. After all, they were a huge part of each other's current lives, so it stands to reason it would be the same if they'd met before…

Spock was jealous in this other story, worried that Jim was cheating on him with a beautiful ambassador. Jim unconsciously shook his head—had the hypothetical him been in a relationship with Spock, he (hypothetically) wouldn't be stupid enough to cheat.

This one told about how they'd been forced to screw to appease alien gods. He laughed again. They'd done a lot of appeasing of alien gods over the past three years, but unfortunately, none of the ceremonies had involved sex.

Wait.

Had he actually just thought '_unfortunately'_? About not having sex with Spock?

And it was then that he realized he had a boner.

"Oh, fuck."

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><p><strong><em>AN:_**_ While I am listing this as complete for now, let me know if you'd like to see a follow up where Spock finds the fanfiction. I'd be willing to write that if there was any interest. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N:_**_ Back by popular demand- I'm happy you guys liked this! I'm having a blast writing it. :) There will be one more chapter-the boys will... er. Well, you're reading this... I bet you can guess. _

_Ster J-I'm working your idea into the next chapter. I think it should be good. _

_Nali-Blunt-I'd love to read someone else's take on this theme! _

_Thanks to everyone else who reviewed and favorited and whatnot. Tribbles for all!_

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><p>A <em>month<em> since Bones had shown him that fucking website, and Jim couldn't get it out of his head. Couldn't get images of _Spock_ out of his head, to be more specific. Last night he'd finally given in and jerked off to one of the latest stories, his eyes skimming over a description of fictional-Spock's mouth on his fictional cock as he roughly stroked the real thing until he erupted, moaning into the darkness of his room.

And now he was on the bridge, acting like nothing had happened. Like it wasn't Spock's name on his lips last night. Like thanks to the vivid imaginations of these anonymous authors, he couldn't _perfectly_ picture what thrusting into Spock over the back of his captain's chair would be like. Like he wasn't getting hard just _thinking_ about it.

"Captain."

Jim pulled himself out of his reverie, and jumped about a mile when he realized Spock himself was standing next to him, one eyebrow raised and a twinkle lurking in the back of his eyes that said he was laughing at the captain.

Jim sighed. "Yes, Mr. Spock?"

"Are you well, sir? Your heartbeat and breathing have accelerated."

Jim shook his head—_just ignore the fact that Spock can hear your heartbeat._ He shifted in the chair, debating if he could stand without anything… popping up… "Fine, Spock. I'm fine," he grumbled distractedly, looking around and realizing the Alpha shift crew was absent. "Is our shift over?"

"Indeed, for the past nine point three minutes."

"Oh." Jim made the decision that he was a bit too… excited… to stand up and not cause a stir on the bridge. _Alright, _he thought,_ deep breath, think of Komack in something revealing… _He stared off into space for a moment, picturing hairy flab squeezed into a too-small bikini, and after a few beats, felt the tightness in his pants retreat.

He stood and smiled a bit too brightly at Spock, who regarded him the look Jim knew meant that Spock was questioning his mental capacities.

"I'm gonna head to the mess, Spock. Care to join me for dinner?"

"As you wish, Captain. I also wished to inquire if you would be willing to spar tonight. It has been several weeks since we last engaged in such exercise."

Jim's jaw worked for a minute. It had, indeed, been several weeks since he'd been willing to wrestle with Spock, and for good reason.

"Uh, maybe not tonight, Spock. I'm, um. Starved, and I don't like wrestling on a full stomach…"

Spock tilted his head in acceptance. "A logical decision, Captain. Perhaps you would not be adverse to a game of chess as a replacement evening activity?"

_Which would put us alone in one of our quarters_, a gleeful voice in the back of Jim's mind suggested. But Jim answered before he had even thought it through completely—"Sure, Spock. Chess it is."

Dinner was uneventful, with Spock choosing his usual soup and salad, and only slightly raising an eyebrow when Jim chose vegetarian fare as well. And if Jim stammered over his words more than usual, Spock gave no sign of noticing. It wasn't until Jim flushed red when Spock innocently asked, in regards to their chess game, "Shall we play in your quarters or mine?" that he again voiced concern at the captain's well-being.

"I'm _fine_, Spock," Jim spluttered, choking on a carrot. "I told you. I've just… been distracted today."

Jim watched Spock out of the corner of his eye as the Vulcan considered his words while they walked to Jim's quarters. He mentally implored Spock not to pursue this vein of conversation, and with a minute shake of his head, Spock finally seemed to drop it.

Despite Jim's misgivings (anticipation?) of being alone in his quarters with Spock, the chess game went well. Jim settled down when concentrating on the game, and as usual, his haphazard assault on the board provided a stiff challenge for Spock's measured strategies.

Spock won, though narrowly, and Jim grinned and clapped him on the back when Spock finally announced checkmate, earning himself a scathing eyebrow and slightly pursed lips.

"Before we retire, may we review the duty roster for the upcoming week, Captain?" Spock asked as Jim cleared up the board.

"Sure. I've gotta pee though, hold on a minute," Jim responded, gesturing for Spock to make himself comfortable on the couch, and heading to the bathroom. Spock exhaled slightly with mild relief—the captain's day-long awkwardness seemed to have melted away with their game.

In fact, this day's increased awkwardness was nothing new. The captain had been distancing himself from his first officer for the past twenty-seven days, and Spock was at a loss as to why. He could not pinpoint an event that could have made the captain upset with him, nor could he see any difference in the captain's behavior toward the rest of his crew. It was puzzling.

Spock settled himself on Jim's couch, waiting for the captain to finish in the bathroom. Belatedly realizing he had forgotten his own PADD on the bridge, Spock picked up Jim's to open his duty roster files, but when he flicked the screen on, another page was already up.

Spock's eyebrows disappeared into the fringe of his bangs when he read the first several entries on the page, and his emotional controls faltered, his mouth falling open slightly and the tips of his ears darkening slightly. As he continued skimming the entries, his eyes widened, and he drew in a sharp breath.

He was not distracted enough to miss hearing movement from the direction of the bathroom, and when he heard the sound of hands being washed, he quickly turned the screen off (after memorizing the URL) and replaced the PADD.

Jim emerged, rubbing his hands dry on his pants, and plopped himself next to Spock on the couch. "So. Duty rosters."

Spock had stiffened when Jim sat down, and now stood, snapping his hands behind his back and clearing his throat. If Jim didn't know any better, he would have thought that he saw a green flush spreading on Spock's cheekbones.

"I have underestimated my levels of fatigue, Captain. I… must regretfully retire to my quarters for the night. Perhaps meeting for breakfast and discussing the rosters at that time would be acceptable?" Spock was speaking slightly too quickly, and Jim cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"Yea, that's fine. See you tomorrow morning, then. 0600?"

"Affirmative, Captain." Spock nodded, turned and practically fled the room.

Once in his own quarters, Spock immediately sat at his computer, and pulled up the website he had seen on Jim's PADD. He winced slightly with guilt at telling Jim a small lie, but his curiosity was too great.

"," he murmured to himself. "Fascinating."

A few quick clicks later (the site was extremely easy to navigate) and he was at the page Jim's PADD had been opened to. Spock leaned forward slightly, his eyes flicking over a story chosen at random. It was well-written and engaging. The plot was believable and easily could have chronicled an away mission.

Even the description of how the story's Spock fell into the arms of the story's Jim was… believable. The characterization of his person was startlingly accurate, Spock realized. They accentuated the aspects of Jim he did, indeed, find aesthetically pleasing, and their dialogue was realistic.

Spock sat back and stared blankly at the screen. He found that there was an odd tightness in his lower stomach, and his heart rate was slightly elevated. Without thinking, he clicked on another of the stories—one that assured it was a 'lemon.'

After the first paragraph, he drew in a sharp breath. This was what was known as porn. Words described heaving chests, leaking cocks, groping fingers… Spock's breathing became more labored.

After four more stories, Spock looked down at his lap, realizing he had become extremely aroused.

"Fascinating."


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N:_**_ Sorry this took so long, I don't like leaving you hanging! Real life caught up, didn't get a chance to write... ya know how it goes. Anywhoo, here's the final installment. Warning: Here be pron. Also, this is twice as long as the other two chapters. I know, I know. You are _so_ disappointed. _

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><p>Breakfast was strained. Spock was dwelling on the stories he'd read the previous night, and was barely able to pull together coherent responses as he and Jim went over the duty rosters. Jim was caught up in fantasies, and found himself inappropriately checking out Spock on more than one occasion.<p>

Needless to say, both men were incredibly distracted, and the duty rosters ended up taking over twice the usual amount of time. They were cutting it close to the start of their shift when they finally finished, and so after breakfast, they hurried their separate ways—Jim to the bridge, and Spock to the science labs.

Jim paused outside the mess hall and watched as the Vulcan quickly left, straight backed and stiff as usual, and felt a rising surge of guilt. He'd thought about Spock last night again, imagined green flushed lips sucking on his neck, pale fingers running through his hair, bodies rubbing together… he shook his head. Apparently once he'd started fantasizing about Spock, he couldn't stop. _Never mind, get to the bridge_, he thought, and sulked over to the turbolift.

Meanwhile, Spock was furiously attempting to control blood flow into his facial regions. He'd remembered a scene from a story the night before that involved frantic kissing and groping in the very hallway he was now walking, and it had taken a surprising amount of control to not spin and accost Jim where he stood. He risked a quick glance back, and also shook his head to clear it when he saw the captain's back retreating into the lift.

Jim was nearly silent the whole day on the bridge, and brushed off attempts by the crew to find out what was plaguing him far too harshly. He almost bumbled a routine message to an Orion ambassador, and actually swore at Admiral Pike during a private message in his ready room. During almost every second of downtime, he wondered what Spock was doing.

Spock, on the other hand, was a measure of efficiency. He completed experiments with unheard of speed, flawlessly updated all paperwork, and was finished with his day's work two hours before he was due off duty. He steadfastly kept his mind off Jim, silently reciting increasingly complex mathematical postulations whenever his thoughts wandered to blue eyes and blonde hair.

Spock retired early to his quarters and plopped in his computer chair, allowing himself to slouch. He should meditate. His emotional controls were shaky, and his mental distress was beginning to show physically. He made to get up and pull out his meditation mat, but hesitated and instead reached out and flicked his computer on, pulling up a blank document.

He began the entry as he would any personal log—typing, though. Not speaking—he didn't want anyone to overhear him. He raised an eyebrow as an idea came to him, and he quickly keyed out the actual events of a recent pleasurable away mission.

He and Jim had wandered from the rest of the away team. Therefore, no one else on board knew the specific occurrences that happened while they were alone, and he made sure to include several details within the story that he knew were not reported in the official logs—the odd color of the stones they had found, the hummingbird-type creature Jim had exclaimed over when it landed on his outstretched hand, the way the phosphorescent glow in the cave had lit the captain's features.

Above all, he attempted to remember the specific words they exchanged on the enjoyable mission. He wanted no doubt in Jim's mind that it was he, in fact, who had written this story.

Now the hard part—he reached the end of the actual occurrences, and now needed to insert an imaginary sexual scene to inform Jim of his desirability. His fingers hesitated for long minutes, and he started several times, only to backtrack and delete the words he had typed.

Finally, he took a stabilizing breath and began to type, attempting to imagine exactly what he truly wanted Jim to do to him, and for himself to do to Jim. At first, he felt a vague sense of unease. These words were illogical, tainted with emotion, even. Yet, he had long ago conceded that his captain had the unique ability to test his boundaries. He was not as uncomfortable committing the words to the screen as he thought he would have been, and as he worked, the phrases came more easily.

When he was finished, he quickly re-read the page for any errors (there were none) and then logged back into the website to upload the document. After several tries, he was able to enter an acceptable screen name, and with only a hint of trepidation, submitted his story to the site.

Now, he would just need to wait.

Jim yawned as he walked to his quarters. _Jesus, what a shitty day_, he thought, and keyed in his door's code. He had skipped the mess hall tonight, instead settling for a replicated sandwich and glass of water. Once he had his dinner, he pulled his PADD toward him and mechanically checked his email, signed a few orders, and then settled back, closing his eyes.

After a few minutes of non-action, he glanced at the PADD. _Not tonight. You were awkward enough with Spock earlier today… he didn't even show up on the bridge all shift._ But he couldn't help it—he had some sort of odd fascination with the stories, and so seemingly against his will, he called up the page, and quickly set in the parameters of the search.

There was a new story, and he clicked, promising himself that he would only read the one today. It was innocuously titled The Away Mission on Marsia IX. Jim smiled. They'd been on Marsia IX a few weeks ago. That had been a very nice mission—that hummingbird thing! Very cool. Plus, that was the last time he had spent just enjoying Spock's company without awkwardness.

He started reading, and after a couple paragraphs, stopped and looked up at the author's name. Son_of_a_Vulcan. This was… odd. The details of the story were… almost too much. They were perfect, in fact. Spot on. But… only he and Spock had been there. He shook his head and kept reading. There is was, that hummingbird… the glowing rocks… Jim was confused.

One more paragraph and the away mission should end, but no… Jim's eyes widened as he read. Lips pressing, his gold shirt torn from his body, green-flushed skin covering him… he was going crazy, that had to be it.

He started the story over, this time looking for the clinical descriptions, precise language, and unerring attention to detail that he was so used to from Spock's duty logs. Despite it being what he was looking for, he was surprised when he found it. This was Spock's writing style—no doubt. No one else on the entire crew could describe 'phosphor-luminescent geological structures' as 'fascinating.'

He put the pad down, and picked up his communicator, staring at it for a moment before flicking it open. "Captain Kirk to Commander Spock?" He was mildly displeased to find that his voice was shaking slightly.

"Spock here, Captain. How may I be of assistance?"

"Could you, uh. Report to my quarters?"

"At once, Captain."

Jim put down the communicator, and sat back on his couch, staring again at the PADD, and when Spock walked in a few short minutes later, Jim gazed at him, a slightly confused look on his face.

"Spock. Um. Sit down…" Spock did, in a chair across from Jim's couch. "Right. So… there's this website…" God, this would be awkward if he had misread the story—what if it wasn't Spock who had written it? Maybe he'd told the story of the mission to a friend or something…

Spock watched the emotions play across Jim's face, ranging from nervousness to lust to outright fear, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Did you enjoy my story, Jim?"

"Guh…" Jim's eyes widened at this admission.

Spock rose from his seat and stepped closer to the captain. "Judging by your increased heart rate and elevated blood flow, I would surmise that you did."

"Guh?" Jim's pupils dilated at Spock's closeness.

Spock leaned forward, placing his knees on other side of the captain's and straddling him on the couch. "I was unaware that our hypothetical sexual activities were matters of such debate to the general populous. I was intrigued."

Jim groaned, and threw the PADD to the side, sliding Spock's narrow waist into his hands instead. He tilted forward to bring them closer, and Spock leaned down, directing Jim's head up to meet his own.

"Oh, Spock…" Jim had time to murmur, before their lips met and he lost all coherent trains of thought.

Spock growled low in his throat, and turned his head, getting a better angle into Jim's mouth. He gently increased the pressure on Jim's groin, knowing that friction on the human's genitals was imperative to arousal. He was apparently successful, judging by Jim's low moan.

Jim pulled back, gasping, and caught Spock's face in his hands, his blue eyes ranging over Spock's delicate features. He traced a pointed eyebrow with his thumb, and slid one hand to pull lightly on the tip of an ear, while the other traced the curve of Spock's lips. Spock's eyes closed in pleasure.

"God, you're beautiful. Come to bed," Jim whispered, and one of those perfect eyebrows lifted slightly. Jim raised his own in return. "Don't give me that, you're the one who started this…"

"Indeed, Jim. Though if you had not left your PADD displaying the website, I would not have known to make such a gesture."

"I did what? Y'know, never mind. I don't care at all right now…"

Spock shifted and Jim was able to get up. He grasped Spock's hand and pulled him toward his sleeping area, quickly throwing covers out of the way and then falling backward on the bed, looking up at Spock expectantly.

Spock was standing over him, his face blank as usual. The only difference Jim could tell was in his eyes—they were dilated to match his, and almost black. Jim smirked, but then Spock began to undress. Jim whimpered, and felt himself grow harder.

The shiny black boots and socks went first, tossed to a corner of Jim's room. Then Spock locked his eyes on Jim's, and slowly pulled his blue tunic and black undershirt off as one. Jim's mouth began to water, and he sat up, wanting to touch, but Spock stepped back with what could only have been a smile quirking his lips.

"The most logical course of action would be to completely disrobe before the consummation of intimate actions." Spock lowered his voice, and purred out the next word. "Jim."

The noise went straight to Jim's groin, and he kicked off his shoes, tugged his shirt over his head, and began to work on his zip. Meanwhile, Spock had stripped down to tight black boxer-briefs, and when Jim glanced up to gauge his progress, Spock swept down and replaced Jim's hands with his mouth, working the zipper of the captain's pants down with his teeth.

Jim groaned and lifted his hips, bumping his cloth-covered erection into Spock's chin. Spock glanced up (eyebrow lifted, of course) and then ripped trousers and shorts off in one swoop. He eyed Jim's red and throbbing member, and then leaned forward and decisively licked from base to tip.

"Aaah, Spock, oh jesus, oh man…"

"I admit I should thank the authors of those stories," Spock responded conversationally, ignoring Jim's muffled groans as he wrapped his long fingers around the other man and began to pump slowly. "They were useful in their explicity. Otherwise I feel I may have been somewhat underprepared for these actions." He leaned down again and teased Jim's tip with his rough tongue.

"Spock, please…"

Spock hummed in assent, and slowly, achingly, slid his mouth down Jim's length, holding onto the captain's hips to discourage unwanted bucking. He rolled his tongue on the shaft, and sucked lightly, moving his head up to release Jim with a soft pop before plunging back in, moving up and down more forcefully.

Jim buried his fingers in Spock's silky black hair, pulling and pushing slightly along with the other man's movements. After a few minutes of what was probably the best blow job of his life, he felt his balls begin to tighten, and managed to gasp out "Stop, stop… gonna come if you don't stop…"

Spock paused long enough to reply, "I believe that is the idea, Captain," and plunged his mouth down again, forcing Jim deeper and swallowing around his length.

"Ahh!" Jim cried, and Spock released his hips, allowing the thrusting man to fuck his mouth. Jim took full advantage, and came moments later, pulsing down Spock's throat. He collapsed, boneless underneath Spock, who sat up slightly and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

"May I penetrate you, Jim?"

Jim looked up into the brown eyes and nodded slightly. "You gotta take your shorts off if you're gonna do that. Lube's in the bottom drawer…"

Spock reached over and after a moment of searching, pulled out a small tube from Jim's nightstand. Then he quickly slipped off his boxer-briefs, watching Jim for his reaction.

Jim pushed himself up on his elbows, unashamedly staring at the smooth expanse of skin that covered Spock's groin. "You're not turned on?" Jim couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed.

Spock's mouth twitched down to an almost frown. "On the contrary, I am extremely aroused. It is becoming difficult to control my physical reactions."

Rolling his eyes, Jim reached up and pulled Spock down so they were lying flush with one another. "We're having sex. You're not supposed to be suppressing physical reactions."

A hot breath from Spock, and then a whispered, "Yes, you are correct, Jim…" and then the Vulcan closed his eyes and visibly relaxed. Jim gasped slightly and looked down—Spock's penis was sliding out from where it had been sheathed within his body.

Jim gulped. It was larger than he had expected—both longer and thicker—and was glistening with moisture. He reached down and traced a finger along the green-flushed length and then brought his hand to his mouth, tasting Spock's essence.

"You taste sweet…" he mumbled, sucking on his fingers, and when he looked at Spock, the Vulcan's mouth was open slightly and his breathing was labored. Jim smiled and pulled Spock's fingers to his mouth, licking the tips and sucking them past his lips. Spock groaned, and let his head fall to rest on Jim's shoulder.

"Stretch me out," Jim whispered into Spock's ear. Spock tensed, but then reached down and slid his hand a few times along his erection, coating his free fingers with self-made lubricant. Without any more preamble, he pressed a finger to Jim's entrance, and he slid in with almost no resistance.

Jim groaned around the fingers in his mouth, and pressed his ass down on Spock's hand. Spock took this as permission to add another finger, and then scissored, opening Jim up efficiently.

"Another," Jim gasped, and Spock obliged, working his hand back and forth to ensure the captain's preparedness. After just a moment more of this, he withdrew his hand and replaced it with his cock, pushing lightly on Jim's entrance, but not seeking access just yet. There was a moment of silence, punctuated only by the quiet noise of Jim sucking Spock's fingers.

"You are positive about these events?" Spock finally asked, a very slight amount of worry showing on his placid face.

"Never been more positive about anything ever…" Jim replied, meeting Spock's gaze.

Green blood flushed Spock's cheeks, and Jim suddenly felt a wash of gratitude mixed with apprehension and tinged with lust. He jumped slightly, startled, but then realized that Spock had simply let his mental barriers down an iota—Spock wanted Jim to know how he was feeling.

"Never more positive," Jim repeated, and tried to send feelings of happiness and desire back to Spock. The other man drew in a sharp breath, and on the exhale, pushed slowly into Jim's needful body.

"Yes, yes, oh…" Jim moaned, and Spock sank in fully, pausing for a moment before pulling back out and thrusting in again, slightly faster this time. "I'm yours," Jim muttered, before pulling Spock's head down and crashing their lips together.

Spock picked up the pace, practically pistoning into Jim, and was rewarded for his efforts when the captain cried out and arched his back—Spock had found his prostate. Jim was rock-hard again, and Spock was teetering on the edge, overwhelmed by the powerful reaction Jim's body was giving him.

"May… I…" Spock forced out, ghosting his hands over Jim's face, and Jim, understanding immediately what Spock was asking for, nodded quickly. Then, fingers pressed down, nestling along delicate bones like they were made for the action, and the men were plunged even further into one another.

Bursts of pleasure exploded around them, melded as one. Colors with no names danced through their consciousness. Jim gasped—they'd melded before, but always in the line of duty—this was wonderful to the point that it was indescribable. There was Spock, and him, and they were together and he couldn't tell where one started and the other stopped and Spock was moaning, his mind filled up with Jim and pure bliss and neither would ever be able to get enough of this and—

The world erupted and the pleasure was unbearable and so they both passed out.

Minutes (_hours? days? who cares?_) later, Jim surfaced to Spock lying on his chest, breathing heavily, and with a small smile quirking at his mouth.

"Spuuhh…" Jim was apparently still incapable of speech.

Spock hummed inquiringly, and buried his head further into Jim's neck. They lay in silence until Jim was sure he was actually coherent.

"Wonderful. That was. You are. Y'know."

"Indeed."

"This… is gonna continue?"

"Indeed."

"Ok. That's… awesome."

"Indeed."


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:**__ I know I said this was done, but I was bumming around my computer and found this fic and re-read it and giggled to myself and I seem to remember a request for an epilogue in the reviews, so. Happy Birthday, slash lovers. _

_**Warnings: **__slashy sex between Jim/Spock and slashy kissing between Sulu/Chekov. _

**Epilogue, or: **

**How the Crew Found Them Out. **

McCoy

It was so late that it was early, but Leonard had had a _long. ass. day._ and wanted some of that confiscated Andorian ale he knew Jim was hiding in his closet. Leonard was still thrumming with adrenaline—the day's earlier confrontation with the Romulans had flooded the medbay, but he'd kicked some royal ass and they hadn't had a single casualty. He felt (quite rightfully so) that he deserved a reward.

He leaned on Jim's door chime, but got no answer. Pressed it again—still nothing. He shrugged to himself, figuring Jim was probably out harassing someone (probably Scotty—they were limping along at warp three, and that was bound to annoy the kid) and keyed in the lock override code. The door swished open and Leonard stepped in, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the room.

The room, which was _not_ empty.

Actually, it was the _desk_ which was not empty.

Specifically, the desk was occupied by a bent over, pants-less, blissed-out James Tiberius Kirk. And behind him, thrusting quite forcibly, was one S'chn T'gai Spock.

Spock's eyes were fixed on Jim's ass, and in the second before Leonard's brain caught up with his eyes, Spock purred quite clearly, "You cannot put yourself in such danger as you did today, Captain."

"Not much… of a… punishment… Mister Spock," Jim forced out between Spock's thrusts.

It was then that Leonard's traitorous mouth chose to speak.

"The… what!"

Over at the desk, both men's heads snapped up. Spock's eyes widened, and he tried to extricate himself from the situation, but Jim reached back and grabbed his arm, effectively disallowing his escape.

"Hey Bones, give us a minute?" Jim asked, both grinning and laughing, and god _dammit_ of course he thought this was funny.

Leonard practically fell out of the room in an effort to get away from the physical amounts of Awkward (he would _never_ be able to look Spock in the eye again) and fled back to the medbay where he had a bottle of Scotty's moonshine that he had kept in case of a dire emergency.

And _Jesus_ but was this an emergency.

Twenty minutes later, Jim wandered into Leonard's office, his hair slightly rumpled and his uniform not exactly spotless, and plopped down in the chair opposite the doctor, who silently poured him a measure of the moonshine. Jim took it with a wordless smirk, and they drank in silence until Leonard couldn't handle it anymore.

He banged his glass down on his desk (identical to the desk in Jim's quarters, and if Leonard blushed violently when he made this connection, Jim was polite enough not to mention it).

"Spock?" Leonard asked, his voice slightly shrill.

Jim gulped the rest of the drink in one go and grinned at his friend. "Spock."

"…How?" Leonard wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Jim's grin grew wider and he contemplated the bottle sitting between them happily, poured himself another measure. "Those fan fictions you showed me months ago put the idea in my head. And then Spock saw them accidentally and… we had a discussion about them."

"A discussion," Leonard repeated blankly.

"He fucked me."

Leonard made an unhappy noise, and Jim laughed. "Aw c'mon, it's not that bad. Actually, I think it's kinda awesome."

Leonard took a deep breath and switched gears. "It's not _bad_. I was just… surprised, is all." He hesitated. "I thought… last mission, didn't you and that ambassador?"

Jim waved a hand. "Nah. Flirting is all…" His grin turned filthy. "You should see Spock when he gets jealous, not that he'd ever admit to such a base emotion…"

"Well," Leonard leaned back and shook his head. "I wish ya'd told me." He furrowed his brow, sliding into doctor mode. "Are you being safe?"

Jim quirked his mouth. "You know we're good—we both had a clean bill of health at our last physicals."

"Yea, but that was six months ago," argued Leonard.

Jim smiled again—this one much warmer, and his eyes softened. "I haven't been with anyone but him since then. Neither has he. We're _together_, Bones." Leonard regarded him for a minute, and Jim beamed back. He went on: "I actually… I kinda think I'm in love with him." His voice dropped, and he smiled into his cup. "He's amazing."

"Well," Leonard said, and raised his glass. Jim looked up and smiled, brought his own glass up to clink against Leonard's. "Congrats, kid. I'm happy for you."

Scotty

About a month after Bones had so rudely interrupted a particularly _awesome _night of sexing, Jim was puttering in Engineering with Scotty, (it had been a slow month and Jim was kinda going out of his mind with boredom on the bridge) working on hypotheticals regarding decreasing transport time—average transport took twenty seconds, and Scotty wanted to get it down to ten.

Jim chewed on his stylus and poked at his PADD. "If you can counter the gravitational issues we've been having with this (Jim showed Scotty an equation) we should be able to knock off a couple seconds, yea? Check my math, though."

Scotty grabbed the PADD and started running through the figures, muttering to himself. Jim's communicator chirped, and he pulled it off his belt. "Kirk here."

"Jim," Spock's voice floated out of the device, "I was wondering if you were available tonight? I believe I have mastered the new T'Lira piece on the lyre and wanted to—" his voice had a tinge of excitement that Jim was _pretty_ sure only he could hear, but he cut Spock off anyway—he didn't want Scotty overhearing something emotional that would make Spock uncomfortable.

"Yea, I'm in Engineering with Scotty right now, we're just playing math games. I'll meet you for dinner, okay?" He smiled into his communicator.

Spock's answering reply was more businesslike now that he knew Jim wasn't alone. "Of course. I will see you at 1900 hours."

"See ya then," Jim said softly, and closed his communicator, clipped it back to his belt, and turned to Scotty.

Who had a gigantic grin on his face.

"What…" Jim asked with some trepidation.

"It's about time," Scotty said firmly.

"I don't know what you're—"

"Ach, Jim! You two 've taken _forever_ to get yer heads on straight. I'm glad ya finally wised up to one another."

"We're—" Jim tried halfheartedly. He didn't really care if it got out that he and Spock were dating, but it _might_ cause problems with the Admiralty, so he and Spock had decided that they wouldn't flaunt it.

Scotty laughed and slapped him on the back. "Congratulations, Captain. I sincerely hope you two have th' most happiness—ye deserve it." Jim smiled down at his hands, and Scotty laughed. "So tell me," he continued, "how'd ye two get together finally? If I was right, I might have hypothetically won a hypothetical pool."

Jim laughed. "It was, uh. Thanks to Bones, actually. He showed me this website that has a bunch of stories—"

"Ach! Fan fiction!" Scotty interjected. "I know that site—I've looked through it meself. There's a fair number on there about me and Miss Uhura, actually…" he smiled to himself and his gaze softened. "A fair number…"

Jim snorted and pushed himself to his feet. "Well, if you don't mind, I'm gonna go accost Spock. He's been working on that piece for weeks."

"I don't mind," Scotty grinned at him. "Just one thing—"

Jim turned back to him, eyebrows raised (as hard as he tried, he couldn't get the single arch that Spock had down to an art form) in curiosity.

"I dunna wanna catch ya makin' out in the Jeffries tubes—I've got quite enough of that from the rest o' the Engineering staff."

Jim laughed, and promised Scotty that he and Spock would keep it restricted to their quarters.

Uhura

She caught him in the mess hall, carefully manicured fingers gripping slightly too tightly. Spock looked down, raised an eyebrow in confusion, but allowed himself to be dragged away from his breakfast and out the door.

"Alright, spill," she said once they were alone in the abandoned rec room—it was too early for anyone to be using it.

"I am unaware of to what you are referring," Spock told her, and she let out an unladylike snort.

"Who is it? I'm just curious, Spock. You're all innocent, I don't want some hussy corrupting you," Nyota told him. "Who are you dating?"

Spock swallowed and shifted into parade rest. Nyota narrowed her eyes. "Is it someone I won't like?"

"What actions have I engaged in that make you so sure I am romantically involved with anyone?" Spock asked, genuinely curious. He was under the impression that he and Jim were being extremely discreet—with the exceptions of McCoy and Scott, he was certain their relationship remained a secret.

Nyota leaned back to take him in from head to toe. "You're glowing," she said finally, and Spock surreptitiously glanced at the exposed skin of his hands. He did not see any 'glow,' and voiced as much.

"Not physically," Nyota told him, exasperated. "But you've got this… air… about you, I guess. You seem really happy." Spock raised an eyebrow, and Nyota sighed. "Well, not _happy_, but all smugly stoic. And I know you, Spock. I know what smugly stoic means."

Spock glanced around the rec room, looking for a way out of this conversation, finding none. He turned back to Nyota. "I assume that any reticence on my part will only be greeted with further escalating inquiries?" She nodded, and he let out a breath that was distinctly not a sigh.

"Captain Kirk and I have been engaging in intimate relations, beginning seven point two one months prior to this date."

Nyota stared at him, her mouth slightly open. Spock again raised his eyebrow.

"You and Kirk."

"Affirmative."

"_You_ and _Kirk_."

"Affirmative, Nyota. Is it truly so unbelievable?" Spock's face had gone entirely blank, and Nyota winced.

"Sorry, I don't mean to sound so… judge-y. But it's a little weird. I mean, how did it even happen?"

"We proceeded forward from a place of mutual respect and admiration. Our minds are highly compatible, we share similar interests—" Spock cut off as the door to the rec room swished open and the object of their discussion poked his head in.

"Spock, you in here? The computer said you were…" Jim paused in the doorway, taking in Spock's mildly defensive stance and Nyota's crossed arms and pursed lips, and took a step backward. "Right," he muttered. "I'll just be going, then…" He practically winged himself on the door in an effort to escape, and when it had again closed behind him, Nyota turned her full glare back on Spock.

If he had been human, he might have cringed.

"You should have told me," she reprimanded, and Spock tilted his head in admission that yes, he should have.

"Publicly announcing our relationship may have consequences we are not yet prepared to face. We have decided that once a year has passed, we will make an announcement. Any possible detractors will see that during this year we have continued to perform cohesively, with the best interests of the crew in mind, and hopefully our relationship will not result in my forced transfer.

Nyota's face softened. "That's a good idea. The _Enterprise_ would be hurt if you were forced to leave." Spock blinked and straightened slightly, pleased in his own subtle way by her compliment.

"I'm happy for you," Nyota said softly, and the corners of Spock's mouth twitched up.

"Thank you," he said.

Pike

"So," Pike said, crossing his arms and glaring between the pair of them. "You know this is against regulations."

"Not precisely, Admiral," Spock countered. "There _are_ regulations regarding emotional compromise; however, as the Captain and I have engaged effectively in both a romantic relationship and as the commanding officers of the Federation's flagship simultaneously for the past year, it is apparent that we are _not_ emotionally compromised, and therefore have broken no regulations."

Jim snaked his arm around Spock's waist, who turned and offered him a raised eyebrow. "I can have my Spock and my ship, too," Jim told Pike with a grin. "C'mon Chris, if you vouch for us, there's no way they'll do anything."

Pike sighed, eyeing Jim's hand, which was still resting on Spock's hip. After an extended silence, he huffed and ran his hand through his hair. "The Admiralty sort of assumed already, actually," he admitted, then leaned forward, closer to his monitor, and lowered his voice.

"Admiral Wurnos got drunk one night and told me that she reads fan fiction about you two. And apparently, so does Komack."

Jim burst out laughing, and Spock's lips parted ever so very slightly in shock.

The Crew in General

The mission had been a clusterfuck from the start.

Starfleet had assured Jim that the native people had warp capability, that they were open-minded, were actively searching the universe for intelligent life—perfect conditions, in other words, for a first contact.

Starfleet had been dead wrong.

When Jim had beamed down, he and the away team had immediately been taken into custody (deep underground, of course, and out of range of the transporter) and tortured for information. The aliens' language was confusing the universal translator, and Jim had only apparently managed to insult them so far.

The shit hit the fan when they stretched Sulu out over what appeared to be a medical table and poised themselves to begin cutting—and then Spock, accompanied by what seemed like the entirety of the _Enterprise's_ security force, burst into the room, phasers already blasting.

It hadn't taken too long to drag the stunned and shaken away team into transporter range, and somehow miraculously, everyone was still intact when all the crew was present and accounted for.

But the first thing Spock had done when stepping off the transport pad (he'd stayed for the last round of beam-up, of course) was grab Jim and thoroughly kiss the breath out of him, entirely ignoring the packed-full room. When they'd finally separated, Spock breathed into Jim's ear: "This level of risk to your person was unacceptable. I must inform the Admiralty of their ineptitude."

Jim just smiled and kissed Spock lightly again before whispering, "I knew you'd get me. You always do."

Elder Spock

Spock walked into their quarters (he would never admit how pleasing it was to call it 'their') to find Jim talking animatedly to someone on his computer terminal.

"It was, like, the most awkward thing I've ever felt, because I was just ridiculously guilty for reading them, but then Spock went and _wrote_ one—"" Jim rubbed his hands over his face and Spock raised an eyebrow. Was the captain _blushing_?

Jim noticed him and waved him over. Spock (somewhat apprehensively) stepped toward him, and Jim smiled. "I'm talking to Elder Spock. I figured he should know about us." Spock closed his eyes for a moment, collecting himself—speaking to his elder self invariably left him feeling off-kilter—but went to sit next to Jim regardless.

"Greetings," he said to the Vulcan on the screen (who was smiling inappropriately) "Peace and long life."

"Hello, Spock. Jim was informing me of the circumstances behind the start of your relationship."

Spock turned to Jim, eyes slightly widened. "You divulged the…" he paused, and forced himself to say the next words, "nature of the fictional story?"

Jim grinned. "Yea, it's an awesome 'how we got together' anecdote. No-one else has something quite as original as that."

Spock stared at him. "You have told others as well?" He was uncomfortably aware that he was beginning to blush.

Jim looped his arm around Spock's waist and pulled him close, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and said apologetically, "…I may have told Bones and Scotty. And Sulu. And Chekov was there."

Spock felt his blush intensify uncontrollably. On the screen, Elder Spock watched them, his eyes crinkled with amusement.

"Spock," he offered, and the younger Vulcan turned back to him, his eyes wide. "If it does anything to ease your distress, my version of Jim did the same thing."

Chekov and Sulu

"Okay, holy shit," Sulu giggled, following Chekov into his quarters. "Do you actually believe that _Commander Spock_ wrote a fan fiction to get into the captain's pants?"

"I weel believe eet when I see eet," Chekov told him, already at his computer terminal, pulling up the now-infamous page. "And I would not put eet past ze keptain to exaggewate ze nature of ze story."

"Well, let's see it," Sulu said, and rested his arms on the back of Chekov's chair. "Something about Marsia IX, right? Didn't you go on that away mission?"

"Yes," Chekov told him distractedly, "ze planet was wery beautiful. Ah, here eet is." He clicked on the link and began to read silently to himself—Sulu leaned down further and read over his shoulder.

Fifteen minutes later, they reached the bottom of the page—Chekov was blushing violently and Sulu actually was finding it difficult to breathe properly.

"Ze _Commander_ wrote that," Chekov said, turning with wide eyes to Sulu. "Zhat was—"

"Holy _hot_, Batman…" Sulu muttered, and attempted to nonchalantly adjust himself. Chekov's eyes flicked down at his movement, and he smiled mischievously. The next instant, Sulu found himself tackled back onto Chekov's bed.

"Eet _was_ hot, Hikaru," Chekov murmured, "but _we_, now…" he wriggled in a particularly enticing way, and Sulu groaned into his mouth.

"Yea, let's beat 'em," he muttered back, and rolled them over.


End file.
